Duet of hearts
by wolf of infinity
Summary: Matthew Williams and Gilbert Beilschmidt both struggle to find reasons to live on, when a twist of fate entwines their lives. Will the connection save them, or be the very thing to push them over the edge...? PruCan, AU. Rated for angst and darker themes.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the first part of a rather long story. It's __a PrussiaxCanada AU-fic, and I hope you'll enjoy the angst, the drama and the love~! ^^ Oh, and it's shounen-ai, so if it's not your cup of tea, no one's forcing you to read. Rating is due to language and some darker themes, not due to the love (just felt like mentioning that)._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia – Axis Powers or any of its characters._

oOo

Fuck, it was cold… Gilbert Beilschmidt pulled his jacket tighter around himself in a small attempt to ward of the chilly December winds. Even so, they seemed to seep straight through, insisting to freeze his slender frame to the bone. The streets were pretty much empty, with the exception of the occasional late Christmas shopper, or a group of friends, or a couple huddling together.

Damn winter. Damn Christmas time. Damn him for going out in this cold-ass street only to walk aimlessly and grow even more depressed than he was before he pretty much escaped from the comfortable, warm house. He couldn't help it, though; the house was far too huge and empty for his liking, with his younger brother being away on a trip with Feliciano, his boyfriend.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do than to walk aimlessly, other than sit at home and watch TV or do something equally useless. While others loved vacations, he found himself truly, sincerely _despising_ them. He would prefer his job as an assistant at the library over vacation any time. Unfortunately, the local library had closed down for the holidays, leaving him with nothing to do. Of course, he didn't really care, he had no problems with doing nothing, because even nothing became awesome when he was included.

At least that's what he tried telling himself, in his war with melancholy. If anyone asked him about it, he'd just grin and spout all sorts of cocky strings about being awesome and stuff. Now when he was alone, though, the mask had fallen, and he was left to gaze solemnly around.

The windows to the shops were full of Christmas articles. Santa Clauses, angels, stars. Christmas lights, Christmas tree decoration, Christmas mumbo-jumbo. Fuck.

What was so great about Christmas anyway? Rich families sticking their happy asses together and celebrating as if they had no care or worry in the world. Kids laughing happily, stuffing their faces with candy and cakes, or pouting because they didn't get the action figure or doll they had wished for. Parents making delicious food and kissing each other below the mistletoe.

Gilbert didn't need that sugary crap to be happy. So what if his own parents had died ages ago. So what if his brother was always busy doing something or the other, being with his friends or his little Italian lover. So what? It wasn't like he cared anyway. It wasn't as if he was lonely or anything, right? Of course not…

His reflection in a shop window told a different story, however, showing him the pale, down-spirited face of a nineteen-year-old, with unusual red eyes practically shining with envy and pain.

"Ack, stop looking so unawesome…" he muttered to himself, frowning and turning away from his reflection, briskly continuing on his path to nowhere. That must be where he belonged after all; nowhere. A place where no one had to be bothered by his bothersome presence. Because it was as clear as day to him that most of the people he considered friends and family, considered him a downright pain in the ass.

A nuisance, a bother, a cocky bastard, a freak, an idiot. Unneeded. Unwanted.

Damn it, he shouldn't be thinking this sort of stuff. He was awesome, and he didn't care what others thought of him. They could say whatever the fuck they wanted about him, he couldn't care less. Really.

Taking an abrupt turn, he headed into a random shop, partially to get out of the cold, but also to do find something he could distract his thoughts with. The shop, he realized, was an instrument store, where shiny instruments were lined on shelves, and where pianos and guitars stood in some sort of strange system on the floor. The plan to distract his train of thoughts went down the drain.

The store was so clean and tidy that it immediately reminded him of Roderich, one of his… friends. Just like the Austrian man he'd known since his childhood, the store had a fairly warm and inviting look, yet seemed to hold a sophisticated air that frowned at the likes of him. He felt pretty out of place in his worn winter jacket and jeans that were a bit too large, the bottoms wet with melted snow with icy drops slowly slipping into his shoes.

Ignoring it, he instead walked slowly around, taking in the sight of the various instruments. There were small ones, big ones. String instruments. Air instruments. Every instrument he knew of, as well as a few others were there.

He stopped next to a shelf, taking his gloves of and picking up a delicate-looking flute. The sight of the silver instrument yet again made his mind wander. His grandfather, old man Fritz had taught him to play the instrument. No one else knew. He had never told anyone, because even he could see that the instrument didn't fit his image at all. He was more like an el-guitar type of guy, or perhaps a loud and obnoxious trumpet… Not a light, sweet flute.

To think that the only reason he begun playing the instrument was that he'd heard Roderich play on his piano all those years ago, and had developed a sort of dream to be able to play along with him some day. He'd asked old man Fritz which instrument would fit, and he'd mentioned that a flute tone was rather nice along with piano.

It was so random. Yet, after playing for a while, he became good at it, and he kept doing it, growing better and better. Even after old man Fritz died, he continued learning on his own. Hell, he even listened to tons of classical music, to absorb information and knowledge.

Once, he'd brought his precious flute along in the inner pocket of his jacket while going over to Roderich's place, listening to his friend playing the piano. He remembered how he had fidgeted and stuttered and acted like a shy school-girl. He'd somehow managed to ask the other boy what he thought about flute and piano duets.

Roderich had given him a strange look, then a small chuckle and said that those two instruments didn't fit well together at all, at least in his ears.

When he walked home that day, he'd thrown the flute into the river in a rage, frustrated tears adorning his cheeks. He hadn't played since.

Gilbert gave a sigh where he stood, shaking away the memory as his hand almost lovingly ran across the instrument in his hands before he abruptly swallowed and put it back on the shelf. He was about to walk away, but stopped. A part of him missed the strange comfort the music gave him. Ah hell, screw that aristocratic bastard! Stomping back, he grabbed the flute and marched over to the counter, fishing out his card to pay for it. This time it was for his own sake, he thought, he could play just fine on his own.

The lady beneath the counter glanced from the flute to him, and looked doubtful, but smiled anyway, asking if she should wrap it in as a present. He shook his head, contemplating whether or not he should be offended, but figured that there was no need. Sure, the instrument might not fit his exterior, but it fit his heart. He flinched at the thought. Fuck, that sounded cheesy.

The bell above the door chimed in the background, a sign of someone entering the store. Gilbert wouldn't particularly have cared, if he hadn't one moment later heard the astonished, yet controlled voice of the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

"Gilbert…?" he whirled around, startled and stared at the two people standing there, holding hands, even. Roderich and Elizaveta… Fuck. Seeing them being all happy-couple-like pulled the trigger for more depression – it seemed everyone had someone to spend time with. Everyone except for him.

"What are you doing here? This is an instrument store, you know…" Elizaveta commented, cocking her head slightly as she gazed at him. What did she think he was, some sort of retard? Well, she probably did. They all probably did. He couldn't really say he blamed them.

"Really, I had no idea…" he found himself replying before managing to swallow the sarcastic bite to his tone.

"Sir, your f-"

"Thank you," he interrupted the lady, rather harshly – a jolt of guilt running through his body at the small jump she made at his tone. He turned fully to her and gave a small smile that only she could see, as a sorry excuse for an apology, although it soon turned to a grimace as he quickly pulled the flute of the counter, wishing it was small enough to go unnoticed.

"You bought a… flute?" Roderich asked, his eyebrows raised. Damn him, looking all amused and stuff, as though it was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen.

"Uh… Heh, yeah." Was the only pathetic response he could get out, forcing his confident mask up on his face as he eyes the extremely doubtful and wondering faces of the lovely couple. There was a pregnant pause, and then;

"Why…?"

"Why not? Flutes are awesome instruments, you know!" he countered, a grin forced onto his features. Habit and his own personal defences forced him to hide the emotions swirling around inside him. Not that he thought they'd be worried if they noticed that he wasn't exactly in the best of moods, they might even laugh. No one thought that the cocky, obnoxious young man was capable of felling such un-awesome feelings as depression, loneliness, sorrow, and so on and so forth.

"Um, sure, but… Gilbert, are you even musical?" Elizaveta said, giving a small chuckle, as though she found it funny. Well, _of course_ she found it funny, why the hell wouldn't she? Everything Gilbert did always seemed to be funny. Or insane. Or abnormal in some way or the other.

"I highly doubt he has a musical bone in his body," Roderich murmured, shaking his head slightly. Gilbert felt his blood rush to his cheeks, grin slowly fading and being replaced by a hurt anger that the two didn't seem to recognize at all.

"Even if you are musical, why a flute of all things?" Elizaveta chuckled again. Ha ha, yeah sure, go ahead, laugh at the stupid German freak. The tough-guy who plays a sissy instrument like a flute.

"Tch, I already said; it's awesome. Now excuse me, I've got better things to do than to hang around being mocked by you two love-birds," he grumbled, not giving a flying fuck that he let his mask down and let his true feelings seep out, if only for a fleeting moment.

"Gilbert, what-" Elizaveta sounded a bit startled, but Gilbert ignored it, marching towards the exit. He was nearly out the door when he heard Roderich's voice.

"Where have you been lately, anyway?" he stopped at this, not turning to look at them in fear of losing his composure even further. It was true that he hadn't gone to Roderich's place much lately, like he used to.

"I've been busy…" he muttered. It was a lie. He'd been depressed. Besides, it wasn't like they wanted him there – they, because Elizaveta was always there – that much was obvious. No matter how he tried to behave, he still had an annoying tendency to seem irritating to other people, and he responded in the only way he knew – he put up a mask. No one could know that the person who didn't seem to care about what people thought, was deathly afraid of rejection.

He wasn't sure what he hoped for. Perhaps a simple question like 'is something wrong?' or a statement like 'we missed you'. It was absurd, of course. The only sound he heard was a short chuckle. Clearly the thought of him being busy doing something other than pestering them was either very ridiculous or very entertaining. Gilbert's teeth clenched in his mouth as he let the door slam shut behind him, heading down the street in a hurry. In his other pocket, the small gifts he'd bought for the two earlier that evening seemed to mock him.

Friends. Yeah right.

His feet carried him further away from the store, but eventually they slowed down to a more calm pace yet again, his hands stinging from the cold as he realized he'd forgotten his gloves back on the shelf in the store. Fuck.

As he headed home, he reached a small bridge a bit outside the busiest part of the city, stretching over a not-so-big, twirling river, which was partially frozen over, yet running rapidly. The sound of running water was somewhat relaxing, and he sighed, leaning on the edge, gazing into the dark water between the specks of ice.

Taking out his flute, he brought it out of its protective case. Showing the package into his pocket, he looked quickly around before lifting the flute to his lips, gently blowing. It had a beautiful sound, almost like his old one, although this was slightly deeper and more… melancholy. Well, that might be due to his mood, he wasn't sure.

"Hm, haven't forgotten how to play," he murmured to himself before closing his eyes, letting his imagination and feelings flow into the instrument as he played. He couldn't care less if someone came by and heard him. Why should he care if they decided to stop to laugh and point at him?

Why should he care that he was fucking crying as he played, tears of both anger, frustration, hurt, loneliness and every depressing emotion that currently swirled through his mind, making their way down his flushed cheeks? No one else cared, so why the _fuck_ should he…?

His mask was thrown, and he simply let his emotions flow, as the river bubbled in tune underneath him. A new sting of pain made itself known in his chest as he knew that this was probably the closest he'd ever get to playing a duet.

oOo

_To be continued..._

_I hope you liked it! I'll post more if I get a few good reviews, and not just a bunch of nameless favs~ ^^_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for your kind reviews~ Here's another chapter for you!_

oOo

The silence in the room was heavy. The kind of silence that made you feel that simply breathing too loudly might cause an explosion or something equally dramatic. The kind of silence that made everything and everyone tense and anxious.

Matthew Williams hated that kind of silence, even if he was pretty much used to it by now. It was the same every time his whole family was forced to sit in a room together for more than a few minutes at a time.

In the sofa opposite him sat his father, in all his straight-backed, horrifying glory. With his black and steal-grey hair, well-trimmed beard and hard, dark eyes, the sight of him alone was enough to scare anyone who didn't know him. Heck, he even scared those who _did_ know him. At least he scared Matthew. Very much so.

His mother, on the other hand, couldn't have been more of an opposite to the tall, wide-shouldered man. She seemed to practically disappear in the large, expensive armchair she was sitting in. Compared to the brute, she was as delicate as a porcelain doll, with fair skin, blonde, wavy hair and large, blue eyes. Matthew had always been told that he looked so much like his mother, and he supposed it was true.

However, one significant thing separated them; where his blue eyes – slightly more of a violet shade than hers – were filled with warmth and life; hers were just about as dead as a doll's. He could hardly remember last time he'd seen any sort of emotion other than fear and exhaustion in his mother's eyes.

Next to him in the sofa where he sat, were his twin brother, smiling and seemingly oblivious to the heavy atmosphere. While Matthew had the lithe build of their mother, his twin had inherited more of the strong, wide build of their father, although his hair and eyes were the same colour as hers. In Matthew's eyes they weren't much alike at all, but people always seemed to mix them up.

"Christmas is coming up." It was their father who spoke, his voice void of feeling and seemingly shaking the posh, stiff-looking living room with its deep rumble. Darryl Jones – Matthew had long since stopped addressing him as his father, or even his first name, except when talking directly to the man – took a sip of his coffee and looked at them all in turn.

Nothing more was said for a while, leaving the atmosphere to grow even heavier than before it had been cut. It was the same every fucking year; they would meet up some days before Christmas, sitting there like a group of zombies, awkwardly discussing something or the other, or arguing. Mostly, the time was spent arguing, until someone or the other got fed up and left. Usually it was Matthew. Usually no one really cared. Despite this, it seemed to be required to meet at least once during the year, as a _family_.

"How… how have you been?" this time it was their mother, Elaine Williams, who spoke. Matthew had taken her surname some years ago, after a particularly bad dispute with Jones. Alfred on the other hand, had kept his father's name, along with the initial F for his middle name, eve though Matthew knew he hated that middle name with a passion.

"Ah, same as ever," Alfred shrugged merrily, taking a large sip of his coffee as he leant back into the sofa. Very few times in his nineteen-year-old life had Matthew seen his brother pay much attention to the atmosphere around him. He could have been sitting in a room full of murderous ex-prisoners intent on murdering him, and he'd still talk about everyday events as though they were having a freaking tea party. "School's been cool, and stuff."

"Oh, that's nice," Elaine said in a rather monotonous voice, and when she smiled, it never reached her eyes.

Matthew listened silently as the two continued their sickening small talk for a while. Elaine's words were carefully chosen and thought-through, as polite as if she was addressing a complete stranger, while Alfred spoke about anything that came to mind, although admittedly in short sentences.

"How's your grades?" Jones' voice suddenly cut into the conversation, and Alfred seemed to tense a little. Even he was a bit unnerved by their father. He instantly covered it with his happy-go-lucky smile though, although his eyes were a bit wary behind his glasses, Matthew could see.

"They're the same as always; good." he said shortly, and shifted slightly in his chair, as though there was something he wanted to say, but didn't know how.

"I take it you're studying hard. I won't except anything less than top grades for you to take over my company."

Matthew took notice of the way Alfred's shoulders tensed slightly, a darker expression appearing in his eyes. It wasn't an expression he usually wore.

"W-what about you, Matthew, how are things going at work?" Elaine asked after a pregnant pause, and he nearly jumped as the attention suddenly was on him. God, he hated this. These… family meetings always tended to start of all right, and he was blissfully ignored – although feeling somewhat invisible was painful, he had learn to appreciate that more than the times when he suddenly was tossed into the spotlight. As the meetings proceeded, attention would eventually fall on him, and that rarely resulted in anything good. He hadn't expected them to talk to him so soon, though…

"I'm doing good," he murmured, his voice a lot more timid and gentle than his brother's energetic one. He shifted a little in the more formal suit he'd put on for the occasion – although he'd left the suit jacket at home, as that made it feel a little _too_ formal.

He could practically feel Jones' scrutinizing gaze directed at him, and forced himself to look up and meet his eyes. His father had been furious when he had decided not to go to college. It had been one of the worst fights they had had, and Jones still hadn't forgiven him for 'throwing his life away' as he put it.

It wasn't like Matthew could help it. He had refused to accept financial help from his rich "family" ever since high school, and it was hard enough to get by as it was, with two jobs and a poor health that constantly kept sending him to hospital for shorter or longer periods of time.

Besides, he had enough of being bullied at school, or being ignored. As far as he could remember, he'd never had a real friend, perhaps except Alfred, and they weren't all that close anymore. His school life had been torture – a struggle to get through each day of torment from other students.

Of course, his father didn't care about such things. All he cared about was money and status. The fact that his son was working in a café some days, and working as a cleaner at a local nursing home other days, seemed to be very shameful to the successful man. Not that Matthew had ever been anything other than a shame to the family, despite getting top grades and always working hard.

No, it was Alfred that was the great, wonderful son, and Matthew was constantly pushed into his shadow. While it was true that Alfred had a massive ego and enjoyed attention and praise, Matthew knew that he also felt guilty for the way their parents paid more attention to him than his older twin.

It didn't matter, anyway. Matthew was fine the way things were, even if it made these yearly meetings a nightmare.

"So you're still working at that little place?" his father frowned even more than the usual scowl he wore, and Matthew felt a sting of anger at the disgust in his tone. Sure, the café might not be that big and wealthy, but it was a nice place, and he liked working there. His boss was nice and hardworking, and the pay was fine.

"Yes, father, I'm still working there," he said, his timid voice slightly chillier than before. No matter how he tried to tell himself to ignore it, Jones' high-and-mighty attitude really pissed him of. Just because he was rich and powerful didn't mean he had the right to look down on anything Matthew decided to do that wasn't 'good enough'.

"Hm." The little grumble was the only response his father made, as he calmly took another sip from his coffee.

"Please, let us not argue…" Elaine suggested meekly, and was met with suffocating silence.

After a while, she once again started some small talk – with Alfred of course – in order to loosen the mood somewhat. Matthew listened without any particular interest as Alfred responded to her polite questions.

How the conversation ever moved onto the slightly taboo subject of 'love' was beyond Matthew's comprehension – love, or even mere affection was something they didn't usually talk about. Yet, it had come up – there was no denying that it had happened. Nor was there any denying the fact that Alfred had grown beat red in a matter of seconds.

"Actually, I… have a love interest," he said, clearing his voice that seemed to tremble slightly with some emotion Matthew recognized all too well. Nervousness coated in slight fear and hesitation… Not an emotion that his twin usually used much.

"Really? What's her name?" Elaine smiled, although her eyes remained as cold as usual. Even Jones seemed interested, although Matthew had a feeling it was only because he was waiting to decide whether or not the person was satisfying enough for his son.

There was a pause, and then Alfred gave an uncertain grin.

"Uh… _His_ name is Arthur Kirkland…"

Another pause. And then all hell broke loose. Needless to say, that this year it looked like it wasn't Matthew's turn to be the cause of argument, although he _was_ the first to leave.

oOo

Matthew sighed as he headed down the calm street, hands buried deep into the pockets of his winter jacket. He could still hear Jones and his brother argue heatedly, even after the house was out of sight, and pictured the look on the man's face. It was priceless, but he didn't envy his younger twin at the moment. He'd known his father was extremely old-fashioned, but he hadn't expected him to react so violently the _second_ time around.

Then again, it must have been a shock. Everyone expected Alfred to be the straight one. Matthew winced as he remembered the similar episode a few years prior, around his first year in high school. He'd finally decided to tell his parents what he'd gradually figured out during the years.

It was also around that time he'd taken his mother's last name and moved out to get by on his own. His father had never accepted anything he did ever since, and still had trouble digesting the fact that his son preferred guys to girls. And now, suddenly, both of his sons did. Matthew silently wondered how much more it would take to give the guy a heart attack.

Wait, he knew something that would. The day Alfred got the guts to tell him he didn't want to inherit his company after all, and wanted to go of to be a pilot and see the world. He'd told Matthew this some time ago. Matthew felt sorry for him, he really did. Even though it hurt to always be in the shadow, it wasn't easy for his brother either. It would be hard for Alfred to break away from the expectations and the life Jones had laid out for him.

Hopefully the tactless fool wouldn't blurt it out in a fit of anger during their fight. That would be pretty much catastrophic. Matthew hadn't waited to find out what would happen, but had instead gotten out of there as quickly as he could, leaving the two to settle their differences in peace – or _un-peace_, rather, judging by the circumstances.

In the windows of the shops, Christmas lights blinked at him, and he felt yet another heavy sigh escape his lips. It was supposed to be a happy time, wasn't it? He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually looked forward to celebrating Christmas. It was usually spent alone, like any other day, while his parents were left to do whatever they did during the holiday, and Alfred was happy with his friends – and this year, his lover… if Jones didn't kill the poor guy.

To Matthew, this time of year was only yet another reminder of his shitty, insignificant existence. Dark thoughts spread through his mind like poison as he walked. If he was to disappear, who would care? His parents wouldn't, he was sure of that. His mother might cry a few tears, as it was only appropriate to do if ones son was found dead, and his father might put on a solemn face, inwardly cheering at the fact that he now only had one gay son left.

They might not even find out, though. The only times they were in touch where basically the yearly meeting, and that had already found place. Was a year enough for a dead body to rot away and become unrecognisable…?

_Stop it, Matthew!_ He hissed inwardly, not liking the way his thoughts had taken on a dark, sarcastic touch, as though he found some sinister humour in thinking about how his death would affect his parents.

It wasn't like he had any plans to kill himself. Sure, the thought might have struck him from time to time, but he'd never go through with it. He liked to think that despite his non-existent family life, and broken spirit, he still had things to live for. For one, he couldn't leave his brother just like that. Sure, they weren't that close, and Alfred probably didn't even think about him most of the time, but they did care about each other… In some strange, dysfunctional way.

Secondly, he had jobs to go to. He enjoyed working at the café, at least to some degree, and although cleaning the rooms of old, sick people was a shitty thing to do, it still gave him a feeling of doing something useful. Besides, the occasional conversation he would have with the people at the place, both the residents and the workers there, was nice.

The third thing stopping him was that he had a dream. Sure, it was a stupid dream, but one that had stayed with him ever since childhood, despite the fact that he'd pretty much discarded the idea as impossible. He had always wanted to be a musician. Not all famous and stuff – he trembled at the mere thought – but good enough to travel around, playing for people who were sick or had lost hope. Music had helped him, and was one of the few things that kept him going. He wished more than anything to one day be able to bring that same joy to others.

It was idiotic, he knew that. All he had was his old violin, and he sure as hell wouldn't get far with that. Not to mention that he had no time or money to travel.

Coughing mildly into his hand, he pulled his scarf further up into his face, trying to block the cold winter air from seeping down to his lungs. He couldn't afford to get sick again, it wasn't that long since he got out of a hospital after another bout of pneumonia. Damn him and his fucking health. Or rather; lack of such.

It had always been yet another thing for his father to frown upon, no matter how little that helped his situation. He'd grown up constantly being called weak by the man, just because he got ill easily. It was annoying. And it hurt. It wasn't his fucking fault, damn it! As if he'd choose to be the way he was…

A soft sound suddenly made him blink and stop in his tracks. Music. It wasn't the sound of a choir singing Christmas carols to earn money for a good cause, nor was it the sound of some tune from a distant radio. No, this was the sound of one single flute, and Matthew had never thought that one flute alone could portray so much emotion.

A shiver went down his spine as he changed his direction, following the sound, almost as if in a trance. It led him further away from the busiest – although not so busy at the moment – shopping streets, to a smaller walkway leading towards the nearby park. When he reached a bridge, he froze in his tracks.

He wasn't sure whether it was the haunting tunes that seemed to cut into his heart, the beautiful scenery, with light snow making its way down from the skies, or the sight of the young man sitting on the wide railing to the wooden bridge, but he felt tears collecting in his eyes.

The man was trembling slightly, from cold or emotion, he wasn't sure, and tears made their way down his pale face, eyes closed and angelic, silvery white hair fluttering slightly in the wind as he played.

All too soon, the music faded away and stopped entirely. The man opened his eyes and gazed into the water below, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. The flute was clutched tightly in one hand, the other gripping at the railing, as if his life depended on it. Then he proceeded to put the flute in its case, dropping it gently onto the bridge behind him. Matthew felt a sudden feeling of shock at his expression.

He looked almost like Matthew had felt at times – like he wanted nothing more than to disappear for good. Shit…! He gasped when the man stood on the small step on the outside of the railing, hands holding the railing as he looked into the river below.

"Don't do it!" Matthew wasn't even aware that he was the one crying the words as he darted forward. He'd be damned if he let someone throw themselves off a bridge while he was watching.

Time seemed to stand still as he ran, and he was afraid that he'd be too late. Only one thought now occupied his previously busy mind;

Neither of them would die today, damn it!

oOo

_Please review and tell me what you think so far, and I shall post more soon ^^_


	3. Chapter 3

_To everyone who's reading my story; thank you! To those who's reviewd; it really warms my heart~! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!_

oOo

He played until he couldn't anymore, a sob taking the music's place as he cursed himself inwardly. Damn it, this was so unawesome! He fished out the case from his pocket, putting the flute into it and dropping it ever so carefully onto the bridge behind him as he stood.

Below him, the water seemed to trickle on to wherever it was going, as if it was determined to reach whatever location it was headed for, no matter what. If he was to throw himself into the depth, the water wouldn't care. It would simply bring him along, pull him under and kill him silently and efficiently. That would be a sad end to a sad existence, he thought begrudgingly.

But he didn't want a sad end. He wanted to life his life until the very end, no matter how painful it was, and when he was at the end, he planned to go without a single fucking regret, grinning like an idiot. Because that was just the way he rolled! Besides, he couldn't let his brother suffer from the death of his last living family.

He sniffled and was about to turn around to step back up to retreat to reality, when suddenly he heard someone shout out, running up to him. It sounded very much like 'don't do it', but he didn't have time to think about that.

The next thing he knew was that the person came closer, before they abruptly slipped on the bridge, where some parts had frozen and made the footing dangerous, and stumbled forward. In what seemed to be slow motion, the person crashed into him with a startled yelp, and the only thing he could think was 'fuck' as they both tumbled in a heap of limbs and gasps into the freezing water below.

It hit him like a bunch of sharp blades, piercing every part of his body and numbing him until he felt like he couldn't move at all. Holy shit the water was cold…! It thundered around his ears as he was pulled under by the currents, and he flailed with arms and legs, desperate to get up.

Somehow, he managed to get to the surface, gasping for air, while his lungs felt like they would freeze inside out. It was pure luck that he caught sight of the deep red jacket somewhere close to him, before it disappeared again under the fumes. A new determination settled in his suddenly clear mind and he swam there as quick as he could. Pulled under yet again, he groped blindly around.

There! His hands found a soft material, and he gave a heave, pushing them both to the surface and making his way towards the river side. Thank God that the river had slowed down considerably, and that this particular spot wasn't as frozen as it had been further up. Also, thank God that he'd always been a good swimmer…! He was nearly there, but his strength was being sapped and his vision blurred with both cold and pain.

He had to try several times before actually managing to grab hold of the plants and bushes by the river, somehow managing to pull them both up on dry land. Lying there, exhausted, he coughed harshly, panting for breath as his mind fogged with cold. He glanced at the person lying next to him, and he realized that it was a young man, about his age. The poor guy was as pale as death itself, although he was willing to bet that he himself didn't look any healthier.

"Oh my God, are you two ok?"

"Holy shit, are they dead?"

Several people were rushing over to them, and Gilbert once again thanked God, despite the fact that he'd never been very religious. He heard them ask questions and stutter to each other, seemingly in a bit of a shocked panic.

"C-call an a-ambulance, for f-f-fucks sake…!" he managed to gasp between his clattering teeth. He felt someone bend down next to him, taking of his soaked jacket and vaguely noticed someone taking care of the other man, while someone else called for an ambulance.

"D-do me a f-favour…?" he gasped to the person next to him, unable to focus on him – or her, he didn't know. "L-l-l…" he coughed and tried again. "L-left my f-flute on the bridge… get it f-for… me…?" he didn't hear a response, and could only hope as he felt his mind go blank and he passed out.

It would be a damn waste of money if it was left there to freeze or be stolen, after all…

oOo

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that his throat hurt like hell when he swallowed. His whole body ached, and as he opened his eyes and tried to focus, he could feel a massive headache appearing.

Above him a neutral and rather boring roof peered back at him, and gradually, he managed to clear his mind enough to turn his head, looking around the room. Steady beeping met his ears and he frowned. A hospital…? Well, fuck, he was sure he hadn't been drunk driving…

Suddenly he remembered everything that had happened, and his eyes widened slightly in realization. He'd fallen into the river. No, he hadn't fallen… he'd been pushed. Well, having been run into was more like it – he doubted that the man had intended to push him. If he wasn't some sort of maniac. But then, what kind of maniac would give a warning shout before running up to him and pushing him, and then throw themselves in afterwards?

Shaking his head slightly at the ridiculous train of thoughts, he sat up, slowly so not to irritate his headache further. In his haze, he realized that some sorts of cables were attached to him at several spots, under the hospital pyjamas he'd been dressed in. Giving a confused and annoyed grunt, he pulled at them, tearing them off before stretching.

The steady beeping suddenly flat lined into a single tone, and he froze, realizing just what he'd done. Oh fuck… The next thing he knew was the door flying open and several doctors rushing inside, only to halt and stare at him. He blinked and then gave an uncertain, lopsided smile.

"Uh… oops?"

"What are you doing up?"

He would have answered, but his mind was still foggy and his throat fucking hurt, damn it! It felt as though it had been torn open or something. He coughed, and felt several pairs of arm gently but firmly push him back onto the bed. Having no strength to protest, he settled for a mildly irritated frown. Suddenly his mind clicked, and he sat back up again, this time more abruptly, his head practically exploding with pain. He ignored both that and the complaints from the doctors.

"Where is he?" he croaked out after some trouble. "Is he ok?" He coughed harshly, head throbbing mercilessly. Man, this was even worse than a massive hangover.

"Who- oh, that man you were with?" one doctor said, once again pushing him back. God, couldn't they just get their hands off of him and answer his damn question?

He nodded through a new bout of pain, and saw them glance at each other. Finally one of them, a woman gave him a smile.

"Right now he's unconscious, but we have good reason to think that he'll be fine," she said. He gave a shuddering gasp of relief, relaxing onto the mattress, exhaustion once again overwhelming him.

"T-thank God…" he muttered, before slipping back into unconsciousness.

oOo

The second time he woke up, the first thought that struck him, strangely enough, was Gilbird, his pet chick. Was he ok? Had he fed him enough that morning to last the entire day…? Had he been unconscious for more than a day? Oh well, Ludwig had said he would come home the day after the day he fell into the river, anyway; he could feed the little fellow.

Ludwig… Oh fuck.

Opening his eyes, he looked around. Sunlight peered in between the curtains, which only confirmed his suspicion. He'd been out until morning at the very least, perhaps even longer. This time, thankfully, there was no annoying beeping, and it seemed the pain was dulled somewhat. He could only guess that he'd been given some sort of pain killers. An IV-drip was connected to his arm, though, but this time he was clear-headed enough not to pull out anything.

Heck, he was thirsty… He pushed himself up a bit, and when things didn't swim before his eyes, he sat up fully. Willing his body to wake up, he reached for a cup of water on the nightstand, only to give a start when his cell phone next to it began to tremble. Were cell phones allowed in here? It seemed like it, although they had turned of the sound, probably to avoid startling him awake. Wait, the phone had survived the swim in the icy water? Wow…

He reached for it, somehow managing to grab it in his slightly numb hand. Looking at the caller ID, he groaned, clearing his throat and testing if his voice was at least somewhat understandable. Flicking the phone open, he tentatively held it to his ear.

"Gilbert, where the fuck are you?" he winced at his brother's voice. "I come home to an empty house – which isn't all that unusual – but your bird was complaining like hell, and it didn't have neither food nor water, what the-"

"West-" he managed to get out, but his brother didn't pay attention, interrupting him with more complaints. Gilbert noted, with a sting of guilt, that there was worry etched into his little brother's words.

"Ludwig!" he managed to say, a little louder than before, and that seemed to silence his brother. He rarely used his name, usually calling him by the nickname he'd picked up when they were just kids. "I… kind of ended up in… hospital," he managed, giving a hesitant chuckle, trying to ease Ludwig's concern. It obviously didn't help.

He winced again as he heard cluttering – possibly the sound of the phone falling from his brother's grip.

"_Ludwig_…!" he heard someone call worriedly in the distance – Feliciano, Ludwig's Italian boyfriend.

"W-what do you mean hospital?" Ludwig's voice then came, and despite his usually flawless control on his emotions, the fear was badly concealed.

"Well, duh…" he sighed, a dull pain marking its presence in his head yet again, although not nearly as bad as before.

"What happened? Are you ok? How-"

"West, relax! I'm fine," he interrupted, noticing a nurse coming in. "I sort of… fell into a river, and well…"

"A riv- What the hell, Gil-"

"Breathe, West, breathe…" Gilbert reminded, and heard Feliciano trying to calm his brother down on the other end. "Hey, could you feed Gilbird for me…?" Poor bird, having to go for hours without food or water… he truly felt bad for that.

"S-sure… I'll be in the hospital right afterwards, ok?" there was a click and Gilbert sighed again, flicking his phone shut after glancing at the clock. Fuck, past midday already…

"Your parent…?" the nurse asked, coming into the room and giving a smile.

"Nah, my little brother," he said, leaning back against the pillow, coughing and feeling his raw throat complain. "So, I've got a cold or is it worse?"

"I'll call the doctor in to give you the details, but I don't believe it's too bad," she smiled reassuringly, resting her hand against his forehead for a moment. "Doesn't seem like you have a fever, which is good."

She left and soon after, a kind-looking doctor entered, smiling at him.

"So you're awake, Mr. Beilschmidt," he said, his broad American accent successfully ruining the German surname. Gilbert only gave him a look that said 'what does it look like?' The doctor didn't look too put off at this. "With the exhaustion and cold shock you suffered from, we hadn't expected you to be up and about quite yet," he explained. "I am Dr. Harrison, by the way," he held out his hand and Gilbert shook it. He wasn't generally very fond of hospitals, but this doctor didn't seem too bad, he decided.

"So, Dr. Harrison, how soon can I get out of here?" his voice was still hoarse, and he suddenly remembered how thirsty he was, sitting up and reaching for the cup again. Taking small sips, he waited as the doctor glanced at his clipboard.

"You were quite lucky, Mr. Beil-"

"Just call me Gil-" he halted his interruption, not wanting the doctor to verbally ruin his first name as well. Even though he was used to it, living in America and all, he really hated the way his name sounded in American.

"Gil?"

"Yeah, Gil," he confirmed, noticing the doctor's amused smile. Obviously he knew his full name. He didn't comment upon it, however, to which Gilbert was thankful.

"All right. Like I said, you were lucky. That icy water could have been enough to kill you, and if you'd drifted a little further, you'd have been pulled under the ice, and that would most likely have caused you to drown." Finally an honest doctor, who didn't sugar-coat things as if he was some little kid. Gilbert liked this doctor more and more.

"Oh…" he just said, taking a last sip before setting the cup down again. Man, that liquid did wonders for his sore throat.

"Thankfully, you were found immediately and that's probably the reason why you only suffer from a cold, and nothing more serious. I will prescribe some medicine to ease your headache and the pain in your throat, and you'll need to drink a lot of fluids, as well as get some rest."

"Sure," he just said with a shrug, feeling tired. Luckily it wasn't the kind of 'I-just-want-to-go-to-sleep-tiredness' he'd felt before, more of an 'I've-had-a-long-day' kind of tiredness. Probably.

"If you feel up to it, you may leave this afternoon," Dr. Harrison said, and smiled as Gilbert gave a tired 'yay'. "If you get worse, I'd like you to come straight back, though, all right?

"Yeah, whatever, Doc," Gilbert shrugged. He lay back down. "I think I'll just take a nap first, 'k?" He heard a chuckle, but yawned and promptly fell asleep again. Ok, so maybe it had been an 'I-want-to-sleep' kind of tiredness anyway.

oOo

The third time he woke up, he saw Ludwig sitting beside his bed, a frown on his features, his ice blue eyes widening ever so slightly when he realized he was awake.

"Bruder!" he said, and Gilbert gave a small smile.

"Hey, West. Sorry for worrying you…"

"Don't worry about it," his brother muttered, looking a bit awkward where he sat. Showing brotherly love had never really been their strongest point. Even so, they cared deeply about each other, because they had only had each other to rely on ever since their childhood, when their parents had died.

They had moved to live with their grandfather here in America, and lived with him for several years, until he died when Gilbert was only sixteen. After that, it was up to Gilbert, as the elder brother by three years, to care for Ludwig. As they grew older, though, Ludwig grew to be a very mature boy, far too mature for his age, and in the end, it was him who was considered the responsible one of the siblings.

Gilbert would never admit it, but he somewhat missed the years when Ludwig would come to him when he was upset or felt lonely, or fell and scraped his knee or whatever. He missed the times when he had someone who needed and wanted him. Lately, he'd just felt like an obstacle and a hindrance for everyone around him. Hell, he even felt out-of-place in the house they had inherited after old man Fritz. He hated it.

"You ok…?" he realized he'd spaced out and blinked back to reality, giving a grin.

"Of course I am! The doctor even said I could leave this afternoon!" he shook away the remaining sleep and sat up.

"He told me," Ludwig said, and didn't comment further on the distant, almost sad expression that had crossed his brother's eyes for a moment, knowing that the silver-haired man would deny it. "What happened anyway? I mean even you wouldn't just fall into a river on your own accord, right?"

Gilbert ignored the sharp stab at his chest at the 'even you' in the sentence. Damn it, why was he being so fucking sensitive lately? He didn't care about comments like that, right? He was too awesome for that…

"Well, I was just sitting there enjoying my life-" ok, small lie, but Ludwig didn't need to know that, "-and suddenly some guy that passed by slipped when he came onto the bridge and, well… we both fell in."

"Right… You know, there are a lot of questionable factors in that statement, but I don't think I want to know. You do the strangest things sometimes, you know that?"

"Heh, well yeah, I'm awesome like that…" Gilbert chuckled sheepishly. Ludwig smiled a little, but it soon faded again, a frown settling once again on his face as he pulled some strands of light blonde hair back from his face. There was a small pause before Gilbert stretched and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

"Well, damn, I can't lie around here all day, I've got better things to do." For once it wasn't a lie.

"I asked Feliciano's brother to drive us here, he said he'd pick us up when I called," Ludwig said, standing from the chair.

"He agreed on that?" Gilbert asked, astonished. It was commonly known that the rather grumpy Italian wasn't too fond of Ludwig. He shook his head, guessing that Feliciano had managed to convince him that it was an emergency or something. Either that or the Italian was more agreeable when he wasn't constantly bothered by Antonio, who was currently on a vacation with his family.

A new stab crossed his chest when he thought about the Spanish man. They, along with the Frenchman Francis, had been close friends for ages, but these last couple of years, they had sort of drifted apart. Francis had moved back to France, and Antonio spent more time with Romano and other – probably better – friends. It was no secret that the Spaniard loved the older Italian brother. Nor was it much of a secret that the Italian loved him back, despite claiming that nothing annoyed him more than Antonio's clingy love. Gilbert never really understood the guy…

"Bruder?"

"Nah, I'll take a cab home later," he said, locating his clothes hanging over another chair in the room.

"What? But I thought you said-"

"I do have something better to do. I'm going to visit that guy who nearly drowned along with me," he said with a shrug, regretting his choice of words when Ludwig winced.

"But, taking a cab when you're still-"

"I'll be fine, West, don't worry about me. Do you mind getting the doctor, or a nurse or something, I need to get this thing taken out," he nodded towards the IV and Ludwig gave him one last, doubtful look before nodding and leaving the room, soon coming back with the doctor.

Before long, Gilbert was dressed in his clothes, which had been dried while he was unconscious. When he was about to put on his jacket, he was surprised when the flute case fell out of the pocket. He picked it up, and couldn't help but smile as he checked it for injury. It seemed to be perfectly fine.

"You… got a flute?" Ludwig asked, and his eyebrows were raised. Gilbert suddenly remembered that Ludwig never knew about the fact that he used to play the instrument. No one knew. Blushing slightly, he gave a grin.

"Just felt like it," he said. Ludwig simply shook his head as they headed out of the room. They headed down the corridor together, and Gilbert felt as though his brother thought he would collapse any moment, the way he kept glancing at him as if to ask if he was ok. Eventually they reached the room Dr. Harrison had told him the man was in, and stopped.

"Don't stay too late, all right?" Ludwig said after a short hesitation.

"Promise," Gilbert said, giving his trademark grin. It faded slightly as he watched his brother walk down the corridor and disappear around a corner. Turning to the door, he gave a knock. There was some shuffling and then a weak, hoarse voice gave a small 'come in'.

Taking a deep breath, and having no idea what he would even say, he opened the door and walked in.

oOo

_To be continued..._

_I hope you'll keep reading, and if you could give a review telling me what you think, that will be most appreciated~ ^^_


	4. Chapter 4

_Here comes next chapter, and the official first (or rather second) meeting~ Enjoy!_

oOo

Damn it, he'd ended up with pneumonia. _Again_. Admittedly, there was a proper reason this time; swims in icy rivers weren't really healthy after all. He was actually somewhat surprised that he hadn't ended up even sicker than he was. Having only caught a bad case of pneumonia and slight hypothermia, he considered himself lucky. Hell, he could very well have drowned…

He thought back to the moment on the bridge, and wanted more than anything to bury himself in some far off place in shame. Talk about messing up. His intentions had been good, but his clumsiness hadn't. He just _had_ to slip just at that moment and somehow manage to push them both into the water. For Christ's sake, he could have killed the guy!

No matter what he did, it seemed he somehow managed to ruin it. He gave a small sigh, but immediately wished he hadn't as it triggered a coughing fit. Thank goodness he was used to this shit, it made it a little more bearable. Still, it was annoying, and he couldn't help thinking that he really couldn't afford all these trips to the hospital. If he was lucky, he'd be out of there before long. He hated hospitals.

A slightly hesitant knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he blinked in confusion. Who could it be…? He'd asked the doctors specifically not to alert his parents, and he had decided that he didn't want to deal with Alfred quite yet – although he had considered having him bring a new pair of glasses, as the ones he had worn were swallowed by the river…

"Come in…" he managed to get out, and the door opened. It took all his will power not to gasp and dart up in bed in shock, as the silver-haired man he nearly killed entered the room. As a result of the shock and sudden movements, he broke into another coughing fit, staring at him with disbelief.

Now that he got a better look at him, he could see that the man's eyes were a strange red colour. An albino…? No, he couldn't be; his hair was more of an extremely light silvery blonde than white, when he looked closely, and he seemed to have ordinary – if not a little lacking – pigmentation too.

The man frowned slightly, hesitantly walking over and coming to a stop a few feet away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you! You ok…?" he asked, shifting nervously where he stood. Matthew managed to control his breathing again and nodded wordlessly, taking note of the flute in the man's hand. So he'd managed to retrieve it...

The silence was awkward, as both men tried to figure out what to say. Matthew partially waited for the man to burst into an angry fit, yelling at him for pushing him into the river, or at the very least ask why the hell he would do something like that.

"I'm t-terribly sorry!" he managed after a while, and his quiet voice nearly broke as shame and regret made his throat tighten. "I… I t-thought you were… well… I tried to stop you, b-but, I'm so clumsy, and I d-didn't mean t-to push you, honest! I'm so, so sorry!" he broke into another coughing fit, chest aching and tears threatening to escape his eyes.

"Whoa- I-it's okay, really!" the man said, looking startled by his sudden outburst. Great, now he probably thought he was even more of a freak.

"N-no it's not, I could have killed you! I only wanted to help you and…" he broke of, feeling terribly self-conscious and stupid when he couldn't hold in the tears any longer.

"Help… me?" The man's expression was a mix of worry, compassion and confusion.

"I c-couldn't let you jump!" he stuttered.

"Whoa,jump?" Matthew was really starting to get a very bad feeling about all this. The man's eyebrows were raised and he looked like he didn't quite know what to say.

"Y-yeah…? Y-you looked like you would…" Oh _God_, he'd gotten it all wrong… The guy hadn't been suicidal at all, had he? _Great going, Matthew, you really put your foot in it this time_, he though frantically to himself, while more treacherous tears made their way down his fever-flushed face. Damn, he hated when he started crying in front of others…

"Oh…" The man murmured. "Oh… Well shit…" Matthew waited for an angry outburst, but when he dared a glance at the man, he saw that he was smiling sheepishly, looking torn between laughing and being serious. In the end, laughter seemed to win and he chuckled, his throat clearly sore as it made his voice break at odd points.

"I'm sorry," he gasped between his chuckles. "It's j-just a little funny how you only wanted to help me, but we both ended up nearly dying anyway… Man, I get the weirdest sense of humour when I'm exhausted…!"

Matthew had no idea how to react, but then he caught sight of the tears making their way down the man's cheeks as he laughed. At first he thought they were tears from laughing, but he soon realized that there was a deeper reason for those droplets falling onto the floor as he covered his face with his forearm.

"I'm s-so sorry… the bridge was slippery and…" Matthew tried to explain, not sure how to deal with this situation.

"It's okay, really!" The man had calmed down, drying away the last tears before daring to remove his arm, grinning uncertainly, as though he was embarrassed but tried his best to hide it. He didn't seem like the type of guy who started crying for no reason, but Matthew supposed exhaustion and near-death-incidents had something to say in the matter.

"B-but, I could have killed you-"

"You also could have been killed. This wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you in the slightest!" the slender man glanced at a chair standing by the wall. "Mind if sit…?" Matthew shook his head numbly, watching him get the chair and take it over to the bed side, while his mind tried to digest everything.

There was a silence, as the man took of his thick outer jacket and hung over the back of the chair. He seemed to search for the right words before settling with a grin. It looked somewhat broken to Matthew, as though the smile was a mask trying to cover up a lot of pain that this guy didn't want the world to see.

"I'm Gilbert," he said. "If you wonder about my name – or my accent for that matter – I'm German…" he fell silent, seemingly trying to stop himself from blabbering nervously.

"I'm Matthew," he replied and held out his hand. Gilbert shook it and this time his smile looked a little more… heart-felt.

"So uh… You weren't all that lucky, huh…?" Gilbert looked at him, and Matthew felt very self-conscious. He looked like shit, no doubt. Oh well, Gilbert didn't seem to mind that. There was a look of sympathy in his eyes, though, that made Matthew relax just a little more.

"One could say that, but…" he paused, swallowing before continuing in a quiet, timid voice. "I think I was in fact lucky."

"Really? But you look like shit! Ah fuck, sorry, I didn't mean it as an offence or anything, you just… look pretty damn ill…" Gilbert looked like he was beating himself up inwardly, trying frantically to explain what could have been considered a rude statement. Matthew couldn't help the slight smile from touching his lips.

"Pneumonia and a slight hypothermia isn't that bad compared to drowning, and I got poor health anyway, so I'm pretty much used to it, I guess," he murmured.

"Shit, and here I got off with just a cold… That's so unfair!" Gilbert said, shaking his head slightly.

"No, I deserved it. I d-did push you, after all…"

"You sure as hell don't deserve this! Besides, you didn't push me, it was completely random that the bridge would be slippery at that exact spot, and I shouldn't have been on the wrong side of the railing anyway," Gilbert said quickly.

"You… you weren't going to jump, were you…?" Matthew blushed in embarrassment, and the question was uttered as a statement. Gilbert eyed him for a moment and shook his head with a small smile, this one a more sad and wistful smile.

"No, I had actually just found some reasons not to when you arrived," he said in a quiet tone. He looked down at the flute case he was twirling in his hands, looking a bit ashamed and broken-spirited. Matthew suddenly caught a glimpse of the man who'd been crying on the bridge, and he found that his heart ached slightly at the sight.

"I heard you play," he murmured after a while, and saw Gilbert tense a little before chuckling a little. He obviously tried to make a laugh out of it, but the laughter seemed hollow and forced.

"Heh, flute doesn't really suit me does it. Stupid really, it's been years since I played, and I just randomly decided to buy a new flute… In the end, I don't really play that well, and only managed to play some depressing shit-"

"It was beautiful…" Matthew broke the man off. Gilbert blinked and looked up at him, the chuckle dying in his throat as he looked surprised. "I don't know why, but when I… saw you crying, I guess… I guess you reminded me of myself, and that's why I thought you might jump…" he broke of, looking down at his lap where he half lay, half sat propped up against the pillows behind him.

"You mean… you might have? You know, if… if it were you standing there, I mean?" Matthew thought about the question while the German watched him attentively.

"No… No, I don't think so," he finally concluded, smiling a little. "I guessI, like you, had just found a few reasons why I shouldn't." He turned and their eyes met in a silent understanding as neither of them said anything else for a while.

oOo

By the end of Gilbert's stay, Matthew could only be sure of three things. The first was that Gilbert Beilschmidt was one complex person. One moment, he could be grinning and seem both confident, happy-go-lucky and self-assured. The next, he could seem almost as lonely and insecure as Matthew felt.

Number two was that, despite seeming somewhat tough and cool at times, he was a lot deeper than he let on. He was like an iceberg that tried hard to hide the parts that rested below the water, almost as though he was afraid or ashamed to show them.

The third thing was that no one had gotten along with him as well as the red-eyed German had, for a long time. Matthew knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with, with his shy and reluctant personality, and natural scepticism towards people in general. Still, whether it was because they had come to a mutual respect for each other or because the chemistry simply fit between them, the conversation flew easily while they sat there.

Matthew nearly even forgot the rest of the last few days' events, which was a welcome relief. He had a tendency to let the seeds of melancholy bloom a little too easily. With Gilbert here, he could almost call himself… happy, even if it had to end at some point.

That point came far too soon, as they both seemed to forget about time.

"Oh shit… I promised West I wouldn't stay for too long," Gilbert looked sincerely unhappy about the fact.

"West?"

"Ah, Ludwig, my little brother. We live together, and he asked me to get home early to rest," he said with a lopsided smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes though, but Matthew didn't comment further on the subject.

Grabbing his flute, Gilbert stood, shifting his weight from one foot the other while he seemed to think about something. Finally he looked Matthew straight in the eyes and smiled, a candid smile this time.

"Um, is it okay if I visit again tomorrow?"

Matthew blinked in surprise but then smiled, aware of the fact that happiness was evident in his expression, even as he tried to control it.

"If you want to," he said, blushing slightly. He couldn't even remember last time he'd parted with someone with the promise to meet again. Usually, the few people he had actually stayed with for a while just said a quick, painfully polite good bye and left, never to speak to him again.

"Definitely! Oh, before I forget…" he grabbed a piece of paper from the nightstand, tore of a corner after making sure it wasn't anything important. He then wrote down his number with a pen he had in his pocket, and handed it to Matthew. "My phone number. Mind if I have yours?" Matthew took the paper, taking note of the swirly handwriting that was a lot more elegant and modest than one would expect. Giving the German his own number, he smiled.

"Awesome! I don't know when I'll be here, but I'll definitely come," he said, grinning. Matthew smiled back, a more shy and careful smile, but a happy one none the less.

The next thing he knew, Gilbert grabbed his flute, waved good bye and disappeared out of the door. Leaning back against the pillows, he realized that he hadn't even noticed that his chest and throat hurt. What did it matter, anyway, he hadn't felt this happy in a long time.

Still, there was this small part of his mind that told him that things could impossibly go so well, and that he should be careful not to get his hopes up. After all, most of those whom had gotten somewhat close to him, had taken his heart, stepped on it and left.

He could only hope that this time was different…

oOo

_To be continued..._

_Please tell me what you think~ ^^_


	5. Chapter 5

_Here's a new chapter for you guys, enjoy! Thanks a lot for all the alerts, favs and reviews you've given me~!_

oOo

He was walking down an empty street, his feet echoing against the emptiness around him. No lights lit up the town, making it impossible to see very far in the absolute darkness. He didn't need to see where he was headed though; his body moved on its own accord down the pavement, his feet bare and his heart racing in his chest like a runaway train.

The scene was somewhat familiar, something he had seen many times before, but it was just as painful every time.

"Hello?" his voice was choked by the darkness as he spoke. "Anyone here? West?" he could se shady figures dancing around just outside his reach, but whenever he reached out for them, they would laugh at him and disappear.

Just like it did every time, whispering was heard and it gradually got louder and clearer until he could make out the voices. The voices of the people he cared about. Just like it did every time, a single voice said his name, slowly as if testing the taste on their tongue. As if it was some sort of foreign word.

"Who's that?" the others would reply. "I don't know any Gilbert, do you?" they would wonder who he was for a moment, before forgetting him yet again, going on their usual business, laughing and chatting merrily.

Just like they did every time, the voices grew distant again, the figures leaving him behind. Panic gripped at his heart as he tried to run after them

"Wait! Don't leave me here…!" He tripped and fell forward. When his face would have met the concrete, though, he fell into a sea of choking darkness, unable to reach for the tiny light that gradually became more and more distant as he sank.

And just like he did every time, Gilbert awoke with a start, sitting up in bed while panting. His body trembled as he tried to compose himself again, pulling his knees to his chest. Fucking nightmare… A soft noise made him look up and he saw Gilbird perched on his night stand, eying him questioningly.

"I'm ok…" he murmured, cold sweat covering his brow and body still shivering. Damn it, he'd had that dream several times, and it was always the same. Sure, he'd had nightmares before, but never had one single nightmare repeated itself nearly every night for such a long period. He blamed it on his depressed mood.

The sun had already risen, not that it was a great shock to him – despite it being winter and dark, it was usually light by the time he woke up, around or past noon. Glancing at the clock Gilbird was currently sitting on, cleaning his feathers without a care in the world, he saw that it was two o' clock. Now, _that_ was a bit of a shock, he rarely slept that long. He must have been more exhausted than he first thought.

Standing, he headed sleepily out of his room to head for the bath room. The scent of pasta drifted up from the first floor and made his stomach grumble loudly in protest. Feliciano was here? Sure, Ludwig had grown fond of the Italian food, but he wouldn't bother making it just for himself – or for Gilbert, for that matter. Besides, two o' clock wasn't really a normal time to eat dinner, was it?

Heading around the corner, he bumped into someone and stumbled back. Looking down and blinking to clear his sleep-blurred vision, he realized that it was indeed Feliciano. The lithe Italian blinked before smiling up at him.

"I was just going to ask, do you want some pasta?" those amber eyes were sincere as he smiled and Gilbert's previously sleepy-scowl softened a little. The Italian was a nice boy, really, although he sometimes seemed a little… dumb. Naïve. Oblivious. Kind-hearted… very much so.

"Uh… Sure," he muttered, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. This was rare, Ludwig was out of the house more often than not, and when he was home, it wasn't often they spent any meals together. It must be Feliciano's idea then. "I'll be down in a moment," he said, heading for the bathroom down the hall way.

"Ok~" Feliciano headed back, feet barely making a sound as he skipped across the carpet. Really, he was so much like an innocent little child. While Gilbert could understand how Ludwig had fallen for him, he had never actually expected his brother to fall for the seemingly weak-minded type. Well, what the fuck did he know about Ludwig's preferences anyway...

Taking a quick, hot shower, he actually had some trouble not dozing off. His muscles ached and his throat still felt raw. Luckily, his headache had been reduced to a mild nagging, though, in stead of the throbbing that had haunted him the previous day. Getting out, he dried of and walked over to the closet. It was painfully tidy. He guessed there were both up and downsides to living with a brother who was obsessed about keeping everything clean and in order. Damn perfectionist… Gilbert wouldn't be surprised if he one day opened his closets, finding his clothes sorted by colour, just so that it would look tidier.

Snickering to himself at the thought, he dressed in a pair of baggy pants and an old T-shirt that had a picture of a bottle of bear and the words "'cause I'm fucking worth it". Giving a shiver, he pulled on an old sweater. Sure, it looked a little worn, and it was a bit too big, but it was warm and the best fucking sweater he had.

Downstairs, Ludwig was flipping through a newspaper while eating, and Feliciano was talking merrily, encouraged by the small nods and "hm"-s or "oh"-s that Ludwig came with. A plate had been set out for him, and it looked delicious! Giving a small smile towards Feliciano who smiled back, he sat down and began eating.

Not much later, he found himself regretting accepting the offer. Every time he swallowed, his throat would complain and he barely got three forks of pasta down before feeling as if he would throw up if he ate more. Fuck. His stomach seemed to have been quelled by his lack of appetite, however, so at least he didn't feel hungry anymore.

He explained embarrassedly to the Italian how the situation was, and thankfully he wasn't offended that he couldn't more. Ludwig glanced at him when he went to clean his dish, but soon turned back to the paper.

Gilbert stretched, feeling a little dizzy afterwards, but shrugging it off. Heading back to his room, he had a feeling that he'd forgotten something. Wasn't he supposed to do something today…? He reached his room and flopped down on his bed, tired just from the short time he spent up.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, he let his thoughts wander to all sorts of things. He wasn't sure exactly when he dozed off, but he awoke with a start at the sound of something clattering to the floor. Sitting up abruptly, his head swam and before he really knew what happened, he was half-lying, half sitting on the carpet next to his bed.

"Bruder, are you all right?" Ludwig hurried over to him, holding out a hand. Gilbert blinked up at him. What the hell was Ludwig doing in his room? His brother noticed the look of confusion and looked a little apologetic. "I just came to see if you were ok, you looked pale earlier… I noticed your flute, and well…" he looked like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't, and Gilbert figured he'd been curious.

"Your damn bird attacked me when I picked it up to look at it," Ludwig grumbled, glaring a little at Gilbird, who met his gaze evenly. So that was why he'd dropped it – the flute lay on the floor.

His flute… Memories of the day before flooded his mind, and he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Leaping to his feet suddenly, he swayed as his eyes darkened for a moment.

"Whoa…!" Ludwig caught him before he fell forward, and supported him. "Gil- What the hell are you-"

"I have to go to the… hospital!"

"What? Are you feeling worse?" Ludwig sounded scared, but Gilbert quickly shook his head, regretting it as a headache thundered against his forehead.

"No, I promised to visit him!" he said, now able to stand on his own and moving as quickly as he could towards the door.

"Wait, visit who?" Ludwig followed him, grabbing hold of his arm.

"Matthew. Oh no, I knew there was something I'd forgotten… What time is it?" the urgency in his voice seemed to startled Ludwig a little, but his brother glanced at his watch.

"It's half past three, but…

"Great, I have some time before visiting hours are over!" with newfound energy he marched out of the room and over to the stair case. He got only about three steps down before everything once again swirled before his eyes and he stumbled. Trying to clear his vision, he searched for the railing, but missed.

"BRUDER!" he heard the panicked cry from behind, but it was too late as his legs gave out and he was sent tumbling down the hard wooden stairs. As soon as he realized he was falling, he was lying at the bottom of the stairs in a heap. Foot steps could be heard running down the stairs and also coming from the kitchen, and then someone else calling his name in shock.

"Fuck…" he only managed to gasp out before blacking out completely.

oOo

"…_ert…_"

"_Br… er…_"

"B-Bruder!" Gilbert gave a moan, slowly opening his eyes and looking up into the wide eyes of his brother. Next to him he saw Feliciano staring at him, tears in his eyes as he bit his bottom lip. Damn, what had he done this time to get them all worked up…?

"_Gott sei Dank_…!" Ludwig breathed, looking just about ready to have a heart attack.

What had happened? Gilbert tried to move, only to gasp sharply when he moved his right arm. He was lying at the bottom of the stairs, he realized, and suddenly remembered what had happened. Fuck… Moving his body somewhat, he found that he'd be moved into a slightly more comfortable position, and something soft was beneath his head.

"S-stay still! You hit your head very hard," Feliciano said urgently. "And it looks like your wrist is broken…"

He hit his head? That would explain why he felt distant and nauseous. It did indeed feel like he'd broken his arm too, because it hurt like hell.

"I've called an ambulance, they'll be here soon… We didn't dare to move you more, because there can be some injuries that we don't see…" Ludwig's voice was quivering slightly, even as he tried to put on a calm, mature expression. It was in times like this Gilbert was reminded that his brother was still young and not the adult he seemed like most of the time. Shit, that realization made _him_ feel old in comparison...

"W-West…" he started, struggling not to slur as he spoke. A feeling of urgency rested on his foggy mind. Matthew was waiting for him…. He had to tell him that his visit would have to be put off for a while. It seemed luck was against him however, because drowsiness once again overtook his senses.

"Ja? Bruder…? Hey, no, you can't sleep! You've probably got a concussion and…"

The rest of his sentence drowned as Gilbert slipped back into partial oblivion. Everything seemed to happen at a rushed pace, and he couldn't keep up, only noticing people and distant voices, someone lifting him onto a stretcher, pain… At some point he must have lost consciousness again, because the next thing he knew was that he was lying on a soft bed.

"Ah, welcome back." He blinked, slowly recognizing the kind face of Dr. Harrison. "Do you recognize me?"

"Of course, doc," he managed to get out after gathering his voice. The doctor smiled, but his eyes were serious.

"I need you to answer some small questions for me, all right?" Gilbert nodded tiredly as the doctor switched on a small light. "What's your name?"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Your age?"

"Nineteen"

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Of course I do, I got fucking dizzy and fell down the stairs, and… Doc, you need to tell him!"

"What…?" Dr. Harrison blinked at the sudden exclamation, and stopped shining that damn light into his eyes to test his pupils or whatever it was he was checking.

"Matthew! I promised to visit him today, but well…" The doctor smiled and shook his head softly.

"Really, you should try being more careful from now on," he said. "Your wrist is broken, but it was a clean break. We applied a cast and it'll heal in about five to six weeks or so. You hit your head pretty hard, and have a concussion, but it doesn't seem to be as bad as we first feared. We will have to keep you here over the night for observation, though."

Gilbert inwardly sighed, but he didn't bother protesting. His wrist didn't really hurt anymore, but his head was killing him.

"You probably won't like it, but I'll have a nurse wake you up every hour to give you some liquids and to ask you simple questions. Concussions can be dangerous if they aren't kept an eye on."

"Sure, whatever…" Gilbert yawned, eyelids dropping. The doctor smiled and stood to leave him alone. "Make sure you tell him, ok?" he managed to murmur sleepily. Dr. Harrison smiled and nodded.

"I promise. Oh, your brother and friend are waiting outside, would you like to see them?"

"Nah… just tell them I'm fine and that they're free to leave. No use in them staying here, 'cause I'm just going to sleep anyway…" with that he let sleep cloud his mind for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and soon found himself walking down the dark, cold road of his dreams.

oOo

_To be continued..._

_Gott sei dank – Thank God/goodness_

_Ja – Yes_


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks for all the favs, alerts and reviews, people, it really warms my heart! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter~_

oOo

Matthew eyed the man sitting by his bed with wonder and not so little concern. Raising an eyebrow, he cleared his throat slightly – his voice had somehow gotten even hoarser now, making it hard to speak.

"Are you as clumsy as me, or… was there another reason for falling down the stairs?" he asked carefully, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Gilbert grinned sheepishly back at him where he sat in the chair by the bed.

"I guess I was a bit sicker than I thought," he shrugged. "Dizzy spells and stairs don't go that well together." He chuckled mildly, and Matthew shook his head slightly. Really, he'd been pretty startled when that doctor came in, telling him that the German was back in the hospital and had to stay overnight due to a concussion. As it was, he looked pretty pale, although his cheeks were marred by a slight fever.

"Tell me about it…" Matthew had once had a similar experience with stairs, and knew that it wasn't all that pleasant. "How long until you can take that of?" he nodded towards the cast on Gilbert's arm.

"About six weeks, the doctor said," Gilbert responded, eying the thing with disdain. "And of course, with my luck, it had to be my right…"

"You write and stuff with that one?" The Silver-haired man nodded with a sigh.

"Oh well... at least I can still play a flute," he smiled, and wiggled his fingers, which hadn't been bandaged.

"Have you been playing for a long time?" Matthew asked, as the subject moved onto music. It was a subject he was quite interested in. Gilbert was quiet for a while, and his eyes were a bit melancholy when he spoke.

"I began playing when I was little..." and from there, he told Matthew the whole story about how he had wanted to play a duet, and had learnt to play the flute from his Grandfather. He spoke about his devotion and the years of work, and about the moment he'd tried to faze his friend with it, only to have his hard work and his dream crushed.

"I stopped playing for years..." he finished, with a small sigh. Matthew felt his heart ache at the look in Gilbert's eyes.

"What made you pick it up again...?" he asked carefully. He didn't want to bring up even more pain, and it was clear that the subject was sore to the silver-haired male. It did look like it somehow helped to talk about it, though. Gilbert shrugged at the question.

"I was just wandering the streets and happened to go into a music store... I saw the flute, and decided to buy it. I suppose I always missed the music."

There was a pause as none of them said anything, just sitting in a comfortable silence. Thoughts swirled through Matthew's mind – questions he didn't want to ask, in fear of provoking more bad feelings for the other. It was obvious something had happened, a deeper reason for why he had been sitting there on the bridge, playing flute as if someone had died...

"I play violin," he instead murmured after a while. Gilbert blinked out of his own train of thoughts and looked at him.

"Really? Awesome!" he smiled. "Have you played for long?" Matthew blushed slightly at the sincere interest in his voice, nodding shyly.

"Ever since I was little. My parents wanted both me and my brother to play an instrument, and I began playing to... please them, I suppose. I soon found out that I really liked it, though, and I began playing for my own sake, not theirs. Gave me the relaxation and peace I needed to get by. Up until a certain point I just used my mother's violin, but I wanted one of my own. My parents wouldn't buy me one, so I saved money for a few years before buying my own."

He smiled a bit at the memory. Of course his parents didn't want to invest much money for him, despite having loads of it. His father hadn't been entirely pleased when he bought the thing, saying that music worked fine as a sophisticated hobby, but wasn't something one should waste too much time and money on. Matthew was almost certain he said this just because it had been _him_ buying the instrument, and not his brother.

"It must have been expensive! Violins aren't exactly the cheapest instruments in the world, especially if you want a good one," Gilbert mused.

"It was worth it. Eventually, I was forced to quit the Violin lessons, because my parents insisted I should focus on school and getting a proper education. It didn't matter, though, because I kept playing..." his expression became a bit more solemn as he recalled the memories.

"My father... didn't like that I kept playing, and threatened to sell my violin. At some point, I managed to hide it and convinced him that I had sold it off to someone I knew. From that point on, it became harder to sneak out to play, but I kept practicing in secret until I moved away from home."

"When was that?" Gilbert asked, and looked honestly interested in the story. Matthew had been a bit worried that he was just bothering the other with his boring tale, but was encouraged by the look of curiosity in the German's eyes.

"I moved away not too long after beginning high school," he said.

"That early?" Gilbert looked surprised. Matthew gave a small, and slightly bitter smile and before he really knew what happened, he told the other about his violent argument with his father about his... sexuality. Finishing, he suddenly got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Gilbert was dead quiet. Oh God, he hadn't scared the other off, had he? What if the other was a homophobe or something...? He dared a glance at the other, and saw him trembling. Then suddenly Gilbert stood abruptly.

"That fucking bastard!" he exclaimed, and Matthew blinked in shock. "Treating you like that... you're his son, for Christ's sake, he's supposed to c-care about you!"

"It's okay, Gilbert, I had... expected it, I suppose..."

"It very well isn't okay! That son-of-a-bitch had no right to treat you like that!" His voice was trembling with emotion, and Matthew noticed with a sting of pain in his chest that the other had a sorrowful expression in his eyes.

"Gil..." he tried carefully, and the other took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry... I just... My own parents died years ago, so I suppose it just really piss me off that parents that still are alive can treat their children like that..."

"... I'm sorry," Matthew said, suddenly understanding his friend's anger.

"Don't be..." Gilbert murmured quietly, and was about to sit down. Matthew opened his mouth to speak. But suddenly the door opened with a violent crash as it hit the wall, and Matthew felt his heart sink yet again at the sight. Damn, how had he found out...?

"Matthew! Holy sh... are you ok?" Alfred looked as if he'd been sprinting a marathon, standing there and staring at his brother. Damn, this was the last thing he needed at the moment...

"Hey Al..." he murmured with a small sigh.

"Why didn't you tell me you ended up in hospital again? You shouldn't have to stay here alone, and-" he suddenly spotted Gilbert, who looked torn between shock and annoyed, and Matthew saw his brother's eyes narrow slightly. Fuck... "Is this the guy you fell into the river with?"

Matthew stared. How on _earth_ had he found out the details?

"What happened, huh? You pushed Mattie or something?" Alfred asked sharply, and Matthew inwardly groaned. Damn his brother's over-protective nature – it often made him jump to conclusions and made him sceptical of those Matthew hung out with.

"I did no such thing!" Gilbert's eyes narrowed at the accusation.

"Don't lie, Matthew wouldn't just fall into a river, you know!"

"Who the fuck are you to come here and accuse me, you shit-face?" Gilbert snarled, although he looked a bit guilty. Possibly because he was getting Matthew worked up. Alfred, who usually wasn't all that perceptive, actually noticed the guilt, and of course, with the mood he was currently in, he took it the wrong way.

"You bastard! And you dare to come here and pester my bro too? I heard you shouting!" and before Matthew could say anything, he had delivered a hit directly against Gilbert's temple. The German gave a strangled cry, and dropped to the floor in a heap, and Matthew could have sworn his heart stopped.

"Gilbert!" he gasped and swung out of bed, tearing of the cables connected to him as he fell to his knees next to the other. He then turned to Alfred who blinked and looked a bit startled at his reaction. "What the fuck is your problem, Alfred?" he cried, before coughing harshly. Turning his attention to Gilbert, he noticed that the other's face had turned an ashen shade, eyes clenched shut in agony. It might partially be due to his head, but Matthew noticed with a start that Gilbert had fallen on his broken hand.

Someone came running, probably due to the commotion, but Matthew didn't care as he felt tears spring to his eyes.

"Gil, are you ok...?" he asked. "Please say something...!"

"Matthew... what?" Alfred tried, looking quite startled where he stood awkwardly. Matthew replied by turning and glaring at him.

"I slipped when walking over a bridge, and ended up accidentally pushing _him_ into the river, Alfred. He saved my life, and ended up with a concussion and a broken wrist... I suggest you just get out of here before I do something I'll regret!"

Alfred looked taken aback, and extremely guilty, swallowing before glancing at Gilbert. Then he looked back at Matthew, and promptly turned, walking out of the room, where Dr. Harrison and a few nurses had entered. The doctor knelt next to Gilbert with a serious expression.

"Gil? Can you hear me?" the doctor asked intently, and Matthew vaguely wondered why he was calling the other by nickname. It didn't matter at the moment, though.

Gilbert didn't respond, breathing harshly where he lay. Icy fear gripped at Matthew's heart. It seemed to him that ever since he'd met him, he gave the other nothing but bad luck and injuries... Fear, guilt and self-loathing that he thought he'd managed to subdue, pressed itself up to his chest, tightening his lungs to the point where he couldn't breathe.

He gave a small sob before drifting off into unconsciousness, sinking to the floor next to the German, while the exclamations of the doctor and the nurses tuned into comfortable silence...

oOo

Matthew was certain this was for the best. He'd been certain ever since he woke up after passing out, and had been told that Gilbert would be fine. That his wrist thankfully hadn't been further damaged. That his concussion had just grown slightly worse from the impact, and he had to stay a little longer in the hospital.

He'd somehow managed to convince the doctors he was all right, and that he was leaving to relax at home. They had been reluctant, but couldn't hold him there against his own will, prescribing pain medicine for his pneumonia and releasing him after trying yet again to convince him to stay for a bit longer.

Alfred hadn't showed up yet, but Matthew wasn't too worried about his brother feeling guilty. He deserved it. And besides, Alfred wasn't like him – he wouldn't let guilt tear him up from the inside and consume him. Alfred would be just fine...

He forced back his cough where he stood, gazing mildly at Gilbert who was currently sleeping soundly in the hospital bed. His brother sat next to his bed, looking pale with worry, understandably enough – poor guy, having to see his brother in hospital several times during just a few days. Matthew swallowed, unable to look at those concerned, blue eyes.

"Ludwig... wasn't it?" he murmured, and the other turned to look at him, nodding. "Could you... could you tell Gilbert that I'm very sorry... and that... I hope he can just forget about me?" Ludwig's eyes widened slightly and he opened his mouth to speak, as his eyebrows drew together. "Don't," Matthew cut him off. "Just... please tell him... goodbye." And with that, he turned and practically ran out of the room, leaving both Gilbert and his thoroughly startled brother behind.

He nearly crashed with a lithe Italian by the door, and hastily apologized through his tears as he moved past him. A hand shot out and grabbed his arm, though, and he looked back to see the boy's honey-coloured eyes gaze at him with concern and question.

"Are you sure about this...?" he asked quietly, and Matthew swallowed, nodding. The Italian let go of his arm and he turned, running down the corridor without looking back to see the other gazing sadly after him.

His thoughts were focused on his decision, and no matter how painful it was, it was for the best. Besides, everyone would be better off without him. And with that thought, he took a taxi and soon, the hospital was out of sight.

_Please forgive me, Gil..._

oOo

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

_Before you get on with this story, __I'd like to ask for your attention__! This will most likely be the last chapter, followed by a short epilogue, because I've been having trouble with time and inspiration. If you have ideas for a different ending, please tell me! I can't promise I'll use your ideas, but I'd like to hear any you might have! Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy this~_

oOo

Gilbert stared at his brother with a mix of shock and horror, blood running cold.

"He said... what?"

Ludwig looked very uncomfortable, and even more so when he noticed his brother's reaction. Gilbert couldn't quite register what was going on. One moment, they had been sitting and talking (and he'd never talked to anyone about stuff like that). The next, Matthew's brother had come in, started accusing him for pushing Matthew into the river, and then proceeded to hit him. When he woke up, Matthew was gone, and Ludwig told him he'd left in tears, asking to tell Gilbert to "forget about him".

What the fuck? He just couldn't process it all, but he knew one thing for certain; he had to find Matthew, and he had to find him quickly. From the sound of it, he'd started blaming himself again, and to a more serious degree, if Ludwig's and Feliciano's observations were correct.

"Bruder, you shouldn't be up and about yet, your conc-"

"I don't give a flying fuck about a damn concussion, Ludwig, I'm going to find Matthew." Gilbert's accent was even heavier now as fear started building up in his chest and mind. He swayed a little as he stood a bit too quickly, telling himself to calm down, take a deep breath and wait for the dizziness to pass. As soon as it did, he put on his jacket and marched towards the door.

"Bruder!" Ludwig sounded almost frantic. Any other day, Gilbert might have felt guilty, but he didn't have time to worry about that now. He moved out into the hallway, and heard his brother and Feliciano following him. He decided to go to Matthew's room first, to see if he left behind any clues to where he'd go. As he reached it, however, he saw Alfred talking to Dr. Harrison outside the room. Alfred looked quite distressed, pale and concerned.

One side of him blamed the man for screwing things up, but at the same time, he could somehow understand, strangely. If he'd heard that Ludwig had fallen in a river along with someone else, he might have been too worried to think straight as well. Over-protectiveness and rashness were both points they shared, he supposed, which was why he didn't blame the other _too_ much for what he'd done.

"Alfred!" he called, picking up speed and running up to him. The other's gaze snapped towards him and he looked positively frightened, guilty and shocked at the same time. He looked liked he expected Gilbert to beat him to a pulp or something.

"Y-you... I'm so sorry for hitting you, I-" he began explaining himself, almost panicked, but Gilbert just waved his hand.

"Forget about it. Do you have any idea where Matthew might have gone?"

Alfred looked a bit startled, but bit his lip, a thoughtful expression adorning his face.

"I was just thinking about that... I don't know, but he might have gone home to his apartment? In any case, we might find some more clues there... God, why did he just run off like that, in his condition...?" he ran a hand through his blonde hair, shaking his head.

"I have a fair idea, but come on now. Do you have a car?"

"Uh, yeah. Let's go," he said. And without further questions, they raced down the corridor, leaving Dr. Harrison, Ludwig and Feliciano behind, wondering what just happened.

"How's your head...?" Alfred asked meekly when they sat in his car, and he drove off.

"I'll live," Gilbert replied with a shrug. He could have stated that his head was throbbing and that he was horrible dizzy and a bit nauseous, but what good would that do? Alfred was clearly beating himself up about it already, and at the moment he needed the other to be clear-minded and not wallowing in guilt.

"Good..." there was a pregnant pause, while Gilbert gripped the seat to keep as still as possible while Alfred drove at the quickest pace allowed. "I guess I didn't really give a good first-impression, but... well, I'll introduce myself properly. I'm Alfred. Matthew's dumb-ass younger brother..." He gave a small, sheepish smile and Gilbert in turn gave a small lopsided smile of his own.

"Gilbert here, the jackass who's practically the reason for all this crap," he replied. The mood seemed to lighten just slightly after that. Perhaps they would get along after all.

The rest of the ride proceeded in silence. Alfred's gaze flickered between the road and the speedometer, making sure he drove just at the allowed speed. Being stopped by the police was something they couldn't afford at the moment. After what seemed like ages to Gilbert, Alfred drove in before an apartment building, parking quickly – and in a manner that would greatly annoy the other residents if they stayed for long - and jumping out, Gilbert following suit.

The two ran inside and up the stairs, until they reached the apartment. Alfred barely paused to knock before testing the handle. It was unlocked.

"Matthew?" Alfred called as the two moved in. Gilbert's eyes trailed across the living room they'd entered. It wasn't too big, but cosy. The furniture was rather simple, showing that he didn't have all the money in the world, but at the same time stylish. It fit the man's personality; neat, elegant and modest. The lights were turned off, and heavy silence hung upon the entire apartment.

"Check the kitchen, I'll check his bedroom," Gilbert said and Alfred nodded before they parted. Matthew's room wasn't all that big, and decorated in the same style as the living room. It looked different, though, more... lived in. By one wall, there were book shelf upon book shelf with books and music sheets, and a rather grand-looking stereo stood on a table next to it. On the walls hung posters of various musical groups and bands, as well as a few paintings.

What caught Gilbert's attention, though, was the bed. Or rather; what lay on top of it. The violin case was open and empty, except from a small note, where something was scribbled down in haste.

Gilbert took it and his breath caught in his throat when he read what was written there. It felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and hurled off some steep cliff.

_I tried remembering my reasons not to jump... but I couldn't find them._

_I'm sorry, Gilbert, for everything...!_

_Please forgive me..._

_Matthew_

The hand writing was shaky, as if he'd been trembling when writing it, and had splotches of tears on it. Gilbert felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and had to grip the wall for support.

"A-Alfred!" he called, and nearly flinched at the fear in his own voice. His accent was now so evident, that he was probably harassing the American name, just as badly as Dr. Harrison harassed his own. The other came running quickly, stumbling into the room, and halting at the sight of the silver-haired man. Gilbert handed him the note and forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Oh God..." Alfred breathed, paling to a shade of ashen white as he stared at the note. "Oh my fucking God!"

"Any..." Gilbert had to swallow and try over again as his voice broke. "Any idea where he might have gone to... you know..." he couldn't even finish the sentence. Alfred looked to be in shock, simply shaking his head slowly as his eyes were trained on the words. Then suddenly, he stopped the frantic motion and his attention snapped to the violin case.

"His violin... he brought his violin!" he exclaimed, and a tiny flicker of hope lit up in his eyes. "I think I know where he is!" he exclaimed, and grabbed Gilbert's good hand before running out of the apartment, nearly colliding with a startled elderly woman in the corridor, her insults about "kids now a days, always in a hurry", following them down the stairs.

Once in the car, Alfred drove off down the street, while Gilbert found himself doing something he didn't do very often; praying. He prayed that Alfred was right. He prayed that they weren't too late. He even prayed that they had misunderstood the note and that Matthew would meet them, with a confused expression in those beautiful eyes, wondering why they looked so distraught.

"Where are we going...?" he asked quietly after a while. Alfred took to the right, ignoring the whining of breaks and angry horn from the car that had to halt to avoid crashing into them. Gilbert could read on his lips more than hear Alfred's whispered apology as he glanced in his rear window to check if the other driver was ok.

"The bridge," he then replied shakily. Upon Gilbert's confused expression, he explained further. "A few years ago, Matthew was depressed due to a major fight with our father, and he went to the bridge... On some stroke of luck, I found him playing a violin there, just gazing down into the lake below. He didn't plan on jumping, he told me. He just liked coming there to play... said that the view gave him inspiration."

Gilbert swallowed. It was possibly the only clue they had. Eventually, the large bridge came into sight, towering over the shimmering, dark lake. Alfred drove up until they could see a small crowd ahead, and stopped the car. Both of them jumped out and ran towards the crowd. Gilbert reached it first, pushing through to see what was going on. Through the air, the solemn sound of a violin could be heard, sending chills down his back.

As he got through he could see what they were staring at and felt a wave of fear numb him for a moment. Alfred had been right, Matthew was here. However, he was currently sitting on one of the metal ledges that kept the complicated bridge standing, and a rather wide gap separated the ledge from the main parts of the bridge.

"Please, sir, do not be rash!" a man called, fidgeting with his phone. "I've called the police, they should be here soon..." he added in a quiet murmur, possibly directed to the crowd.

"M-Mattie..." Gilbert looked to his left, seeing Alfred standing there, staring out at his brother, who was faced away from them. The blonde American stepped forward, as in a trance.

"Matthew!" he called. The violin paused momentarily, but he didn't turn, and soon played on. "Mattie, please... don't do this!" Alfred's voice broke at the end.

Gilbert felt completely numb. He could see Matthew's shoulders trembling where he sat, noticed the way the violin notes hitched in tune with the sobs that retched the blonde's body. He didn't see a person who was selfishly aiming to hurt those he cared about, nor did he see someone who truly wanted to die. He saw a person who was tired of all the shit he'd faced in life and who had finally met the last straw, which was threatening to topple the wagon. He saw a broken man who reminded him so much of himself that it caused his heart to twist in his chest.

Before he really registered what he was doing, he had thrown off his sling and swung himself over the fence, to the gasps and horror of the on-watchers.

"Gilbert, what are you..." Alfred didn't come any further before Gilbert fastened his attention on the ledge, not the gap that separated them. He only had a few feet to catch speed before the leap, but it was enough. It had to be enough. He barely noticed the screams and cries of horror as he sped up and kicked off, flying across the gap and landing on the metal ledge at the other side. However, he slipped and for a heart-stopping moment he was sure he'd topple over to the side. Gripping onto the metal, however, he managed to hoist himself up, head pounding, both due to adrenaline and his concussion, and his wrist screaming with pain. A dizzy spell had him paralyzed for a moment, as he forced himself to breathe again.

The violin sound had stopped entirely, and he looked up at Matthew, who sat only a couple of metres away. The other had an expression of shock and fear, face pale and wet with tears. Biting his teeth against the pain, Gilbert began to move closer, careful not to look down at the deep darkness far below.

"W-what are you doing...?" Matthew gasped, but Gilbert didn't respond, simply continued until he was sitting right next to Matthew, who was now facing him. Up close, he could see the mix of emotions in Matthew's blue eyes. He could even feel his rapid breathing touch his face in warm waves.

"I'm... returning the favour," he murmured eventually, once he trusted his voice enough to speak. Matthew's eyes widened slightly, then more tears leaked down his cheeks and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't... I've never done you any favours, Gilbert...!" he cried. "All I've ever done is to give you injuries and near-death-incidents, a-and..."

"You saved me, Matthew!" Gilbert broke him off, his voice rising in volume now as his eyes pleaded for the other to understand.

"W-what? You said you weren't jumping...!" confusion was clear in the other's voice.

"I might not have been jumping at that time, but fuck, Matthew, I was falling... You could see that, that's why you tried to help!"

"But I f-failed didn't I? You nearly died!"

"Still, I didn't die! I survived, and not only that... For the first time in a very long time, I felt that I was meant to survive! That I had a reason for being alive!"

Matthew hiccupped, and Gilbert reached out, laying a trembling hand on his cheek and drying off the tears with his thumb. Matthew leaned into the touch ever so slightly.

"You too have reasons to be alive, Matthew, even if they aren't always clear."

"I can't see them..." Matthew closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath

"Yes, you can! You just have to open your eyes, Matthew! Look around!" Matthew opened his eyes hesitantly. "See that?" he pointed out across the lake and the lights from buildings and cars at the other side, shimmering through the darkness that had begun to creep upon them. "Every light you can see is a friend you haven't met yet, a place you have yet to see. Fuck, Matthew, I'm not the most poetic person in the world, and that crap sounds completely ridiculous, but I know... that thinking like that gives me hope, even if it's subtle..."

Matthew followed his gaze, his sobs calming just ever so slightly.

"And if you look to the other side..." Gilbert didn't have to say more. Matthew followed his eyes, seeing Alfred standing there, along with several other people who were all transfixed and dead silent as they watched and listened. Alfred was crying, silent tears running down his cheeks in streams as his hands gripped at the fence desperately.

"Al..." Matthew whispered. Gilbert nodded before reaching out and resting both of his hands on the other's cheeks.

"And if you look right in front of you..."

Matthew's eyes met his, and Gilbert swallowed when a sob escaped the other's lips. No words were needed, he could tell that Matthew saw the emotions that had broken out from behind the now fallen mask.

"Do you see now...? Do you see what you'd give up if you gave up hope tonight? He searched that tearful gaze, feeling as if he could drown in it as Matthew nodded almost numbly, more tears running down his cheeks. Gilbert leant forward, letting his forehead rest against the other's as he exhaled slowly, shakily and felt Matthew's breath on his skin.

"Let's play together when we get down from here," Gilbert whispered. "Your violin and my flute..."

"Yeah," Matthew replied after blinking, resting his hands over Gilbert's as he gave a tiny smile. "I'd like that."

And Gilbert grinned through his tears, his heart finally calming down. Despite the fact that they were sitting on a small ledge, with certain death at both sides, he had never felt safer...

oOo

_Please keep my request in mind!_


	8. Epilogue

_I almost can't believe it's finished... But here's the epilogue for you! Thank you so much to everyone who's read and faved my story, I truly appreciate it! _

_I'd like to give a special thanks to: ., allavengedromance, SunflowerMaria, Top Magician, Soot, xXRenegadexWolfXx, AmfibiefiskenLarry, LuLeo, themagnificent ME, Ayla The Librarian, Avio Favalon, lilredd3394, yaminokokorouta, magicattack24, Kaichan, Blind Ribbon, WinterClover, anonymous-ninja13 and mercia'lolli, for reviewing! It means a lot! :)_

_This is by all means the longest fanfiction story I've finished and posted! Yay! :D Hope you've enjoyed!_

oOo

Matthew's heart was thumping heavily in his chest where he stood. Glancing beside him, Gilbert gave him a calm smile and thumbs up. The German was dressed nicely, his pale hair pulled back in an effort to look neater than usual. Matthew smiled shakily back, fastening his eyes back on the room in front of him.

The people in the hospital ward were eying them with a mix of wonder and joy, and the usually heavy mood was filled with expectation. Matthew ran a hand through his own hair, before lifting his violin to his chin.

Glancing at Gilbert, who held his flute to his lips, they nodded in unison, and as if on a silent agreement, began their small concert.

As they played song after song in perfect harmony, Matthew recalled the events that had happened ever since he had met the other man. He remembered the pain and the joy, the sorrow and the relief. The desperation and the hope.

After they had been helped down back at that time, Matthew had passed out, due to a mix of fatigue and sickness. He'd spent the entire Christmas at the hospital, and not once had Gilbert left his side. Alfred and Gilbert's brother had joined them at times, and all in all, it had been the most pleasant Christmas he'd had so far, despite everything.

The moment he remembered the most was when Gilbert confessed just how important Matthew was to him. Never before had Matthew been as happy as he was when their lips met in a moment of trust and promise.

A soft smile played on his lips as he put every bit of the hope, and all the pleasant memories into the songs, subconsciously. The two instruments complimented each other beautifully, and it was evident in the teary eyes of the room's occupants that the harmony wasn't just Matthew's naive imagination.

This was what he had dreamed of ever since he was young; being able to play for someone who needed music. Being able to convey hope and peace to someone who truly craved for it. He had dreamed of making a difference, and he really felt like he was succeeding. Glancing at Gilbert, he noticed that the other was practically beaming, eyes shimmering with tears even if they didn't fall.

Gilbert's dream had always been to play a duet, and he couldn't help but feel incredibly happy where he stood, conveying his emotions and devotion through the tunes of his instrument.

He'd almost stopped daring to dream, but then he'd met Matthew. It was such an odd turn of events, albeit not a bad one, despite the pain and the sorrow that had come with it. Just how big was the chance of falling so madly in love with a person that had made his first-impression by making them both fall into an icy river? He couldn't quite believe the incidents that had followed their first meeting, but he couldn't deny the fact that his life had been tied to Matthew's from their very first meeting.

They played the final tunes of the last song on their list, and the room erupted in applause and touched compliments. Both men grinned, and their hands connected, fingers entwining as they bowed in flawless unison.

As they threw away painful memories and simply lived in the moment of dreams and joy, their hearts continued beating in tune.

It was as if not only their instruments, but their very hearts were destined to match in a beautiful duet. Like many musical pieces, it had its painful parts, but the hope would always be the leading emotion.

oOo

_Thanks again, everyone! :)_

_Ciao for now~_


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